


Guilt

by SerendipityDreamer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerendipityDreamer/pseuds/SerendipityDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your entire world comes crashing down, what do you say? When the line between good and evil blurs, what do you think? When you've hurt the ones you love the most, what do you do? You live with the guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! This is the first story I'm posting to AO3, but I'm hoping it'll do well here! I'm always open to hearing any feedback and constructive criticism on my stories, so please feel free!

It had been ten years since the Guardians rose up to fight Pitch. Jack had known what it was like to wait in silence. He understood what it was like to be alone. He had waited three hundred years to be seen and to be believed in.

That belief came with Jamie.

Jamie was the first one to believe in him. He was the one who led the other children to fight Pitch. He was the one that reminded him so much of the sister he once had. Jamie was special.

Until he became a Guardian, he had no chance of this ever happening. He would have remained invisible, outcast, and alone. Jamie had saved him.

And Jamie would ruin him.

"Guess who's back in town, kids?"

"Jack Frost!"

The children of Burgess ran to embrace him. The ones who didn't cling to his legs bounced on the edge of the group, trying to get closer to Jack. Jack would spend hours with the boys and girls. He played with them until their faces were red and their teeth were chattering. He would build snowmen and create snow angels; he constructed snow forts and started snowball fights. He was having fun. That was his job. He was the Guardian of Fun.

As the sun began to set and the children returned to their parents, Jack always had one more stop to make. He called on the wind to deliver him to the Bennett family home. Whenever he was in town, Jack made a point of visiting Jaime. At eighteen years old, Jaime was still a firm believer in the Guardians. Jack wanted to do everything in his power to make sure Jaime never stopped believing. Jack wanted him to know that he was special.

Jack stood in the backyard, the snow from the ground blowing gently in the breeze. Leaning on his staff, Jack called out, "Hey, Jaime!"

When the second floor window didn't open, Jack started to laugh. Jaime was probably too involved in his music. From Jack's perspective, teenagers were constantly distracted by music, and Jaime was no exception. Jack flew up to the window and gave three quick knocks.

Still nothing.

Jack peeked into the window and saw Jaime sitting at his desk. He was hunched over it, the small lamp shining down on whatever he was working on.

Jack chuckled again. This was a typical Jaime. He floated backwards, forming a snowball in his hands. He threw it at the window, making a satisfying thud against the glass. After a minute, the window was pulled open and Jaime peeked out with his headphones around his neck.

He looked confused as he called out, "Anybody there?"

Jack flew over Jaime's head, avoiding the young boy's his line of sight. When Jaime walked back inside, Jack slipped in easily without being noticed. When Jaime sat back at his desk, Jack thumped his staff on the wooden floor, "Jaime Bennett, you have a very special visitor."

Jaime didn't turn around.

Jack laughed and reached out to yank at Jaime's headphones. "Jaime, you must be deaf!"

Jaime's headphones were still around his neck.

Jack stumbled back, "No. Oh, please, no," He dropped his staff and gripped his hair, "Not him. Not Jaime."

Jack lurched forwards and fell on his knees. Jaime couldn't have stopped believing. Jaime was the first. Jaime was special.

"Damn, it's cold in here," Jaime muttered, "Don't know why I opened the window."

Jaime twisted in his chair and stood up.

He walked right through Jack.

It had been so long since he had felt this: the hollow feeling of disbelief. The gut wrenching feeling that tore away at his strength. But this time it was worse, it was Jaime Bennett: The last light, the boy who believed.

Not anymore.

Jack turned around and looked at Jaime staring out the window. He was so much taller now, his brown hair falling in front of his face and covering his brown eyes. Jack remembered seeing him two weeks ago, smiling and laughing as he played in the snow with the Guardian.

What happened?

"Jaime, Pippa's here!"

Jaime's eyes lit up as he hopped across the room, "Coming, Mom!"

Jack reached out to touch Jaime's leg, but he only felt that horrible gut wrenching hollowness again.

Jack stood up, clutching his staff so he wouldn't fall over. He felt like he was going to puke. He stepped towards the door, leaning heavily on the frame. Jack looked around for something, anything that could help him.

He looked behind him to Jaime's desk and observed the drawing there. He stumbled over and gripped the edges of the desk, his eyes scanning the paper. There was a pencil drawing of a beautiful girl. Her hair, tucked behind her ear, rested on her shoulders. She had soft brown eyes and a smile on her lips. On the edge of the paper, written in small scratchy letters, was a name: "Pippa." And next to that name was a small heart.

Jaime Bennett: The Boy who didn't believe. Why? Because of a young love.

Jack would never remember what happened next. Stumbling, he ran through the house and down the stairs. Standing in the living room, he looked between Pippa and Jaime. They were kissing, softly and gently, as young lovers do. Jack couldn't stand is anymore. He screamed out, "How could you do this!?"

The shadows crawled around him.

"You said you'd believe, forever!"

His vision was blurring and his voice was cracking.

"I believed in you, too!"

Darkness.

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When Jack woke up, he was still surrounded by darkness. He pushed himself up on his elbows and frantically searched for his staff. When he couldn't find it, he slowly brought himself to his feet. He groped the air for something to steady himself. Instead, he ran headfirst into somebody's gut.

"Hello, Jack."

He knew that voice. That dark voice that twisted your stomach in knots. That voice that put nightmares in children's minds. "Pitch," he whispered.

A dim light began to fill the room. They were in Pitch's lair, the cages dangling from the ceiling, ominous and empty. Pitch stood over Jack with a crooked smile in his face. His eyes glinted with something dark, something inhuman. Jack, who had begun to back away, swallowed hard and muttered, "What do you want?"

"I want what you want, Jack," Pitch replied, "to be believed in."

"I think you're repeating yourself," Jack said, "I still remember Antarctica."

"Perhaps," Pitch remarked as he walked closer to the young Guardian, "but ten years is a long time. It also seems that your statistics have changed."

Jack backed into the wall. Pitch's yellow eyes bore into his. Jack swallowed once more as he looked down to the floor, "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, well," Pitch laughed, "let's refresh your memory, then."

Pitch smiled as black sand clouded Jack's eyes. Jack grabbed his hair again as he sunk to the floor, remembering every detail.

"You loved him," Pitch whispered. Jack tensed as a ten-year-old Jaime came into his mind, laughing as he played with the Guardian.

"He made you a promise," Pitch growled. Jack's eyes filled with tears as he saw a fourteen-year-old Jaime standing in the snow with him, pinkies locked in a promise to stay a child, a promise to be Guardian of Belief.

"You're nothing to him!" Pitch shouted. Jack yelled out in pain as everything flashed in front of him. The fateful sledding incident. The night they fought Pitch. The snowball fights. The laughs, hugs, and smiles they shared. Then he saw him with Pippa, all grown up and madly in love. Jack curled up on the floor, absolutely invisible.

Jack's eyes shot open, but Pitch was gone. He clutched his chest, bunching the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. This wasn't a nightmare. This was real. All of those things, they all happened.

"Scary, isn't it?" Pitch chuckled.

Jack scrambled to his feet, looking in the shadows to find Pitch.

"Get out here, Pitch!" Jack snapped, slowly circling the area.

"Listen Jack," Pitch declared, coming out of the shadows and grabbing his shoulders, holding the Guardian still, "Together, we'll be more powerful than any Guardian. No one will stop believing."

"No one will stop…" Jack mumbled, "but Jaime…"

"When we work together, even Jaime will believe again!" Pitch exclaimed as he extended his arms in a grand gesture, "Everyone will believe in a world of Jack Frost and Pitch Black."

Jack stood numb. He couldn't work with Pitch, could he? The Guardians, what would they say? He only lost one believer. Was he being unreasonable? No, he couldn't be. Jack clenched his eyes shut. This was Jaime and there was no one like him.

When Jack opened his eyes, Pitch stood in front of him with Jack's staff in his hand. "Join me, Jack?" he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Jack, slowly, reached out to grab his staff. There was no going back. This was it. "Yeah," he whispered, "I'm in."

His hands circled around his staff.

Pitch grinned, "Perfect."

The room, which had been bathed in a dim yellow light, grew dark once more. Pitch's eyes shone in the darkness and, cautiously, he reached out to touch Jack.

With his palm pressed to Jack's forehead, Pitch's smile grew wider, "I'm glad you agreed, Jack."

Jack didn't struggle. For him, there was nothing left. He had nothing to lose. Jack's eyes transformed from a shining blue to pure white. There were no pupils and no iris, just a soulless white. Like ink on clean paper, Jack's clothes turned black. Frost no longer clung to him as a red hue embraced him. His staff had grown to look like a scythe with a jagged blade. It was as black as his clothes were.

"Jack the Ripper," Pitch chuckled, "That can be your name."

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"Jaime, come on! I'm freezing! Can we please go home?"

"One more minute, Pippa. I promise."

Jaime skated circles around the ice while Pippa, shivering in the cold, groaned. She started to pack up the things they had brought along with them: a picnic basket, a thermos, and a blanket. They were young lovers without a care in the world.

They would have one soon enough.

Clouds began to block out the sun, bringing darkness to the lake and causing the pine trees to cast ominous shadows.

"Jaime!"

"One more lap, Pippa!"

One of the trees cast a shadow right over the lake. Slowly, it began to transform into something almost human. The shadow moved away from the tree, enveloping the lake.

"I'm leaving without you!"

"All right, all right. Gimme a second."

The shadow rose up from the ground, its pure white eyes glowing with something…evil. It took the form of a Jack, or more appropriately, Jack the Ripper. However, it cast the shadow of the King of Nightmares.

Jack raised his scythe and brought it down hard onto the ice. Cracks began to form, tracing lines around the curve of the boy's skates.

"Jaime!"

This was a scream of fear, not frustration. If only he had known.

"I said I was…SHIT!"

The boy couldn't say anything else. The ice had fallen through, plunging him into the icy and dark depths of the lake. The girl ran over, screaming frantically, calling out for the boy. When she couldn't see him, she ran for help. She ran as far and as fast as she could.

It wouldn't be enough.

The figure smiled as it sunk back into the shadows.

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Jack woke up on his back in the middle of the forest. His eyes opened slowly and there was a throbbing sensation in the back of his head. He pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing is pain. He felt around until his hand closed around his staff. Slowly, he pulled himself up. Everything was sore and his eyes were still adjusting to the bright sun.

What had happened to him?

Blinking hard, Jack was able to realize that he was in the woods around Burgess. Maybe he had flown himself here after…after he discovered Jaime didn't believe.

Being in too much pain to call on the wind, Jack decided to walk through the forest. From what he could tell, he was only about ten minutes away from town. It would be pleasant to walk for a while, and it would give him an opportunity to think.

As he walked, Jack focused on how the snow felt on his bare feet. He recognized the distinct smell of pine in the air, and he heard the soft whispers of animals scuttling about. What had he done last night? He remembered yelling at Jaime, but then it all went black. He remembered something with ice and darkness, a cold and consuming darkness.

Jack shuddered at the thought.

Eventually, he came upon the lake. He almost bypassed it completely, he visited it every time he came to town, and it was like a second home. He would have never stopped, but he noticed something peculiar.

The lake had no ice.

Jack walked up to the edge of the lake, toes digging into the frozen soil. He was positive that when he first came to Burgess he had given the lake a new sheet of ice. He couldn't have been passed out for more than a few days because everything else was still frozen. Why was the lake melted?

He made his way into town, waving to the few children who were playing outside. As he ambled along the streets, Jack had noticed that the town was particularly empty. Sure, Burgess was small, but people were always bustling about.

Feeling less sore, Jack slowly let the wind raise him up the skyline. From the sky, he could see a lot farther. Maybe he could figure out what was happening.

In the distance, Jack spotted a church. He could make out almost two-dozen cars, all of them black. And he could see a few people shuffling around, also dressed in black.

Jack knew a funeral when he saw one.

He flew over, landing in front of the bulletin board outside. As plain as the eye could see, spelled out in white block letters, was this: Bennett Funeral: 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.

Jack shook his head. Bennett, it couldn't have been him. Was it Sophie, maybe his mother? Maybe it was a grandparent. Grandparents died too.

Jack set off running towards the church door, slipping inside past an elderly couple.

The church, while small, was filled with people. Adults, children, and seniors were packed into the small pews. There was an almost sacred silence enveloping the room. Jack, wanting to remain unseen, stayed in the back. People passed through him as they walked in the door to find a seat. That empty feeling though, that meant nothing right now. He could see the casket from across the church and it was wide open. From where he was standing, he could see a fleck of brown hair.

No.

Jack didn't care about being seen at this point. He walked straight down the middle aisle. He walked past tearful adults and confused children. The ones that did see him merely cocked their heads. They knew something was off.

There was someone standing in front of the coffin. She was five feet tall and her messy blonde hair, tied back in a bun, made her black dress stand out.

"Sophie?"

The girl turned to find the source of the voice. Her green eyes looked into his blue ones, and she softly whispered, "He's gone."

Jack shook his head. Sophie's eyes were bloodshot and her face was slightly puffy. Her cheeks were tear-stained and even more tears threatened to roll down her face.

For the first time, Jack looked at the casket. Jack could remember his smile. He could remember how his eyes would shine whenever he was happy. But now, he could never open his eyes again. His face would stay as it was now, eternally asleep.

Jaime was dead.

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The sun was setting over Burgess. Jack stood in the street, leaning on his staff, watching the street lamps flicker on. The air was cold, and the roads were still covered in a thin layer of slush. The town was now devoid of life. Everyone had gone home. They all had lives to return to. They had a family to be with. The Bennett's, however, would never be that family again.

Jack had stayed at the funeral. He saw Sophie, sweet and innocent Sophie, racked with tears and utterly distraught. He had seen his parents fall into each others arms. He had seen Pippa, lovely Pippa, hug herself because Jaime could never do it again. All of those lives were ruined.

"Hello, Jack."

It was that voice again. This was the voice that started it all. "Pitch," he growled.

Pitch walked out of the shadows with his hands behind his back. He smiled, "I thought you'd be a bit more welcoming, Jack."

"Why would I welcome you, Pitch?" Jack hissed, "You've never helped me."

"No," Pitch laughed as he walked closer towards the Guardian, "but you've helped me."

Jack's eyes widened, "What do you mean?"

"Jack, your memory is failing you these days," Pitch scoffed, "I truly am surprised you don't remember."

"Remember what?!" Jack shouted.

"This," Pitch replied, tossing black sand into Jack's eyes.

Jack stumbled back, trying to steady himself. He pulled at his hair as images flashed in front of him. He could see the lake and he could see Jaime skating on it. He had those eyes, the ones that shown with pure happiness.

Jack saw the shadows moving in the trees. He sensed that whatever they were, they were evil. And he knew Pitch controlled them.

He saw the shadow boy raise his scythe and break the ice. He saw Pippa running.

"He died cold and alone, Jack, just like you."

Before the shadow boy disappeared, Jack saw it. He saw the icy blue eyes and the shaggy silver hair. He knew.

"NO!" Jack shouted and launched forwards, his staff firing a surge of frost at Pitch. He jumped back, avoiding the blast, and the young Guardian stood, ready to fight.

"You played me!" Jack shouted.

"And you were quite the pawn," Pitch chuckled.

Jack thrust his staff, forcing it directly against Pitch's head.

"What will this accomplish, Jack," Pitch inquired, "It won't bring him back."

Jack knew he was right. Jaime was dead, and nothing could bring him back. But, dammit, he wanted to right his wrongs. "Shut up," he whispered.

"It's not like he believed in you."

"I said to shut the fuck up!" he screamed smacking Pitch over the head with his staff.

Pitch, with a small growl, melted into the shadows.

Jack stood alone in the street once more. He clenched and unclenched his fist. Random sparks of frost came from his staff. "He didn't believe," Jack muttered.

"But you believed in him."

Jack whipped around and fired at Pitch, but the frost only hit a distant lamppost.

"Looks like you'll just have to live with the guilt," Pitch said, materializing behind Jack, "The weight of a dead body, the anger of a broken family, and the shards of broken hearts. All of them rest in your hands, Jack."

"This is all your fault, Pitch," Jack growled.

"But who was the one to break the ice?" Pitch whispered in his ear, "Who was the one who agreed to work with me?"

Jack sucked in his breath.

Pitch only smiled, "Think about what you've done, Frost."

He disappeared into the shadows.

This was his fault. If he hadn't agreed with Pitch, if he hadn't listened to him, things might have worked out better. If he had gone to the other Guardians, they could have helped him. But, no, he listened to Pitch.

He was a fool.

A car alarm blared.

A guilty, murderous, fool.

The street lamp hanging over him sputtered and died out.

Cold and alone.

The moon wasn't hanging in the sky.

Forever.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no more winter that year.

Jack had not only disappeared from Burgess, but from the world all together. Snow no longer fell in Moscow; Ice no longer formed in London; Children no longer had fun.

The Guardians were worried.

Bunnymund had scoured the world. He searched from Burbank to Sydney, from Rio de Janeiro to Tokyo, but he never found Jack.

Sandy continued to give the children their dreams, but even he was distracted. He began to give children dreams of snow, sledding, and ice-skating. He made sure they remembered what Jack would bring.

Toothiana had returned to the field, but not to collect teeth. She flitted around from Paris to New York, returning the memories of times spent with Jack. She made sure the children remembered the fun they had had. 

North had taken up the liberty of writing letters to each child. It was very rare when he wrote a letter, but the current circumstances had called for it. He would write a letter for the children, urging them to remain faithful. He told them that they needed to believe in what they couldn’t see.

The Guardians, however, all asked each other the same question: “Where is Jack?”

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“Jack?”

Sophie stared out her window, studying the hunched frame in the tree behind her house. She pushed her hair out of her face, squinting her eyes to make sure she wasn’t crazy.

“It’s freakin’ Jack Frost,” Sophie mumbled and shook her head. She marched to her window and pulled it open. As soon as she stuck her head out, the wind began to whip around her, pushing her hair into her mouth. She fumbled for a minute before shouting, “Jack!”

The wind slowed and the hunched frame began to straighten. 

“Jack, it’s me, c’mon.”

The wind stopped and the figure stood up completely, twisting around so it’s blue eyes could stare into her green ones. 

Jack Frost had returned.

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“Where have you been, Jack?”

The young girl sat on her bed with her legs folded beneath her. Jack balanced on her bed frame, his staff firmly gripped in his right hand and his hair falling in front of his face.

He glanced up, studying her face before looking down again.

“You wouldn’t have come back if you didn’t want to.”

Jack sighed, “I know.”

Sophie spoke more firmly this time, “Where have you been, Jack?”

Jack maneuvered himself to sit on the bed across from her. He never met her eyes, but he spoke clearly, “In exile.”

“Why?” she asked, scooting closer to him.

“You know why,” Jack growled.

“No,” Sophie pressed, “I don’t.”

Jack pushed himself off of his bed and crossed the room to the door. Sophie began to chase after him as he stormed out of the room. 

“Jack,” Sophie pleaded, “please don’t run.”

“I’m not,” he growled. 

He pushed on before stopping completely at the end of the hall. His eyes scanned the door, observing every scratch and chip in the wood. His eyes, however, always drifted to two words taped to the door: "Jaime’s Room."

Sophie reached out to grab Jack’s shoulder, massaging the muscle in an attempt to calm him. Jack shrugged her off and forced his way into the room.

The only light came from the moonlight shining through the window. A thin layer of dust had gathered over everything: clothes, schoolbooks, and even the bed. Jack looked around before whispering, “How long?”

Sophie whispered back, “Not since the funeral.”

He turned to the desk, and it was there, the picture of Pippa. Her eyes were glimmering with happiness, but Jack remembered how sad she had been...how broken she had become.

Jack clenched his fists, relishing the feeling of wood digging into his palm. He clenched his teeth and glanced at Sophie. Her hair had fallen in front of her face and he could see her shaking. He wanted to comfort her, to whisper into her ear and tell her everything was fine, but he knew it wasn’t.

He didn’t realize he was shaking; He didn’t feel the tears streaming down his face; He didn’t notice Sophie inching closer to him; He didn’t feel her grab his hand.

“Jack,” she whispered.

“It’s all my fault,” Jack whimpered, “He’s dead because of me.”

“No, Jack,” Sophie pleaded, “It was an accident. No one could have…”

“No!” Jack shouted, “I went to Pitch! He…he did something to me…”

Sophie’s eyes pleaded with him, urging him to stop.

Jack shut his eyes, “Jaime…he didn’t see me. He was too caught up in Pippa. I…I was scared. Pitch, he took advantage of me. I’m the reason the ice broke.”

Sophie started to cry, “No.”

Jack shuddered, “I’m so sorry, Sophie.”

She shook her head and whispered, “He never stopped, Jack.”

Jack stopped shaking, “No, I tried…he couldn’t hear me.”

“That entire morning he was wishing you froze the lake enough to skate.”

“No,” Jack whispered. He was shaking again.

“He was hoping you decided to not have a snow day.”

“No,” Jack growled. He was pulling at his hair.

“He told Pippa he hoped Jack Frost wouldn’t get in the way of their date.”

“No!” Jack shouted. 

Jaime couldn’t have believed. He had tried to talk to him. Sophie couldn’t be right, she couldn’t be.

He turned, bursting out of the window and flying into the night. He flew far and fast, back to where he knew he wouldn’t be found, into the cold Artic wasteland.

Sophie stood in her dead brother’s room, tears streaming silently down her face. She wrung out her hands as her hair blew in the breeze from the window. She stepped forward to close it, but not without whispering, “Goodbye, Jack.”

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Bunnymund had been in Havana when Jack flew over. He tried to call out to him, but he was gone as quickly as he came.

He knew he had to tell the others. 

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Jack had been screaming for hours. He cursed the Moon; He cursed Pitch; He cursed everyone and everything that he had ever come in contact with. His voice was only drowned out by wind. When he finally exhausted himself, he collapsed to the ground. He dropped his staff and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I think this is highly unnecessary, Jack.”

It was him.

“Fuck you, Pitch!” Jack yelled, quickly picking up his staff and surging ice towards him. 

Pitch disappeared as quickly as he came.

Panting, Jack rose to his feet. He looked around, like a beast filled with bloodlust. “Where are you, Pitch?!” he roared, “Come out and fight me, dammit!”

“I’ve already won the battle, Jack.”

Jack whipped around, but only the blank landscape stared back at him. Jack tightened his grip on his staff and shouted once more into the wind, “Get out here!”

A deep laugh filled the air, “Oh, but, Jack, it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

“I could beat you any day, Pitch!”

“But is today that day, Jack?”

Jack wavered as the wind around him slowed.

“You are in a weakened state, Jack,” Pitch cooed, “You are in no condition to fight.”

A hand grazed Jack’s shoulder. The young spirit turned, glaring into gentle yellow eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Pitch,” Jack growled.

“But you are angry,” Pitch replied.

Jack turned back around, “Jaime still believed,” he whispered.

“How do you know, Jack?” Pitch asked, “She could have told you exactly what you needed to hear. That little human might have been lying.”

Jack started to walk away, “Sophie wouldn’t lie.”

“Do you really know her, Jack? You never expected Jaime to stop believing, how could you expect Sophie not to lie?”

Jack was ready to scream. His world was shattering. Pitch’s lies were as sweet as honey, sounding as smooth as the truth. Jack could no longer tell the two apart. 

“I’ll make you one more offer, Jack. Join me, or stay alone.”

Jack couldn’t answer him. He could feel tears burning in his eyes as the wind picked up around him. He had been alone for more than three hundred years; he was trying to decide if he could do it again.

Pitch smiled, “I’ll give you some time.”

Pitch disappeared and Jack was alone once more. And Jack wanted it to stay that way.

Jack looked to the sky, staring into the darkness. It was so inviting, cold, dark, and empty. Maybe fading away was the solution.

Then the sky woke up. It exploded into colors ranging from purple to blue, green to red. It danced to a silent song across an equally silent night.

“The Borealis,” Jack muttered, “they saw me.”

Jack shook his head and flew off into the night, deeper and deeper into the Artic. He didn’t want to be found. He would stay as far away from the Guardians as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Criticism and comments are always appreciated! ^.^
> 
> Yours till the ping pongs,
> 
> SerendipityDreamer


	3. Chapter 3

 “And you’re sure you saw him, Bunny?”

“I would recognize that Show Pony anywhere, Tooth. I know it was Jack.”

The Guardians had gathered in North’s Workshop. Toothiana was buzzing around worriedly, wringing her hands at the news Bunny had given. North stood with his arms crossed, his brow scrunched in concentration. Sandy studied each of the Guardians, gauging their concern along with his own.

Bunny paced back and forth, twirling his boomerang in his hand. “Ya’ sure there’s no way to find ‘im?” he wondered aloud.

“If Jack does not want to be found, we should not look for him,” North replied.

“No,” Tooth bit back, “He’s our friend and he needs our help!”

“Jack does not seem to want our help, Tooth,” North grumbled.

“But…but… that doesn’t mean…” Tooth stammered, “I…we can’t give up on him!”

Bunny sighed, “I’ve gotta agree with Tooth, mate. Jack needs us now more than ever.”

Sandy, with the flourish of a few sand symbols, also agreed.

North groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose, “I want to help him.”

“Then why are you so unsure?” Tooth questioned.

North scanned the faces of his fellow Guardians before answering, “Jaime Bennett.”

The room fell silent.

“That was an accident,” Tooth whispered.

“I know,” North sighed, “but what transpired would scar anyone, physically and mentally.”

“So ya think he’s gone bloody insane?” Bunny asked.

“I know I would,” North replied.

They didn’t talk after that. He was a Guardian; he was their friend. They wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. Jack seemed beyond their reach.

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Jack decided he liked to be alone.

He sat in the depths of the Artic, deep within a trench hidden in the snowy, vacant landscape. His staff was by his side, and his only company was the thoughts inside his head:

“You fucked up.”

“Pitch is right.”

“You should have gone to the Guardians.”

“What other choice did you have?”

“Jaime is dead.”

He wanted the voices to stop. He wanted them all to shut up and he wanted to be alone. Jack never had that sort of luck though.

Jack looked up and through the trench he could no longer see the Borealis. The voices started up again:

“They’re all together.”

“You should be there. You’re a Guardian.”

“They think you’re crazy.”

“No, they don’t, they want to help.”

“Why would they help? You’re going crazy.”

Jack clenched his fists. The voices were becoming more hostile. They started to sound like the people who judged him:

“Are you outta your bloody mind!?” Bunny shouted.

“Let us help you.” Tooth soothed.

“Come to your senses.” North bellowed.

“You’re better than this.” Sophie called.

The voice he desperately wanted to hear, the voice he could no longer remember, was Jaime’s. He wouldn’t judge him. Everyone wanted to “help” him; they wanted to fix him. Jaime wouldn’t, he would hug him and tell him it was all right. He would listen; he wouldn’t pass judgments.

Jack started to cry as a new voice filled his mind.

“When we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.” 

Jack looked up and saw the moon rising over him. The Man in the Moon had spoken to him.

“When did you start to care?” Jack asked, “When the hell did _you_ start to care!?"

Jack rose to his feet and continued talking, “You could have helped me! When Jaime was dying, you should have been there!”

Jack was shouting now, pointing his staff at the moon, “I hate you! You have done nothing for me! _You_ are the reason I’m going fucking crazy!”

Jack started to rise out of the trench, “Don’t you dare come to me now to help me! You lost your chance!”

Jack aimed a blast of frost at the moon before flying off once more, this time in the direction of Burgess, but not to see Sophie.

Definitely not Sophie.

“I’ll show them who can change,” Jack thought, “Jack Frost is gonna change.”

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“Pitch?”

Jack had flown to Burgess. He had gone deep into the forest and he had found the old rotten bed frame. Pitch had offered him a deal, and Jack wanted to collect.

He stood in the Nightmare King’s lair, his eyes passing over the hanging cages. They were almost empty now, their only occupant being the darkness that fell over everything here.

“Well, well, I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.”

Pitch came out from the shadows. He sauntered over to the winter spirit and stood with his hands behind his back. He smiled, “Have you considered my offer?”

“I have,” Jack replied, standing straighter, “and I accept.”

Pitch’s smile grew wider, “Oh, Jackie Boy, I knew you would come around!” He wrapped his arms around Jack, “We can do so much together, Jack.”

Jack pulled away and scowled, “Before _we_ do anything, Pitch, I have a few conditions that need to be met.”

“Really now?” Pitch asked, crossing his arms, “What might they be?”

“One,” Jack said, counting on his fingers, “I want to be in control. You can possess me or whatever the hell you did last time, but I want to know what I’m doing.”

Pitch nodded, giving Jack the sign to continue.

“Two, I deal the Guardians on my own terms. Three, you make the voices stop. _._ ”

“Haunted by guilt are we?” Pitch quipped.

“I don’t have to be here, Pitch,” Jack growled.

“All right, calm down,” Pitch said, raising his hands in mock defense, “I can do that,” Pitch extended his hand with a smirk, “So, do we have a deal?”

Jack stood for a moment. This was it, there no going back. No more guilt and no more voices. This would be good. He was going to change. Jack gripped his hand and firmly shook it, “Deal.”

The two stepped away from each other. Jack stood firmly, gripping his staff in front of him. His eyes were closed. Pitch smiled and extended an arm, letting the black dream sand flow from him. The sand, almost like the wind, encompassed Jack. It swirled around his legs and slowly moved up his body. It wrapped around his arms like chains and appeared to choke his neck. The sand that wove through it stained his hair, which flowed in the invisible breeze.

Slowly, the encompassing sand started to disappear. It rested on Jack’s skin and slowly seeped into him. Jack breathed in, accepting the darkness that entered him. He was ready.

When all of the sand had disappeared, Jack opened his eyes. They were no longer blue; they were pitch black with a ring of toxic amber. A single speck of white floated towards the center of his eye.

Jack rolled his shoulders and neck which had grown stiff from the stand. He flexed his arms and sighed pleasantly as he felt a surge of power rush through him. It was dark and frightening, but it was a delicious vice; enticing and powerful. Jack licked his lips as he relished the next surge, “What was it that you called me the first time?” 

Pitch grinned as he remembered the pet name, “Jack the Ripper.”

Jack laughed and flourished his staff, “Then Jack Frost is dead and Jack the Ripper is here to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive Criticism and comments are always appreciated! ^.^
> 
> Yours till the fruit cakes,
> 
> SerendipityDreamer

**Author's Note:**

> Yours till the moon shines,  
> Serendipity Dreamer


End file.
